Blood Moon: CH 1

Chapter 1

The night is deep and dark, bright silver moon hanging in the sky casting inky black shadow in every corner. The night air is chilly at this hour. The sound of wild wolves howling can be heard from afar. Under the moonlit sky stood a lone man dressed in long black coat. Smoke from his cigarette envelopes him, forming a wispy barrier.

The man stood still, unmoved. His calm visage betrays no emotion.

His eyes flicks at the faintest sound - a scratch of the ground. Taking a drag of his cigarette, the man seems unbothered. However, he is not to be taken lightly. A particularly strong gust of wind shook the trees in the perimeter. The momentary shift in shading reveals creatures hidden in the dark side of the tall trees. The man is effectively surrounded by them, escape doesn't appear possible. Yet the man remains unperturbed; sharp eyes scanning the area, silently calculating his move.

Silence fall. Both parties waiting for the right time to strike.

Thick cloud blows over the moon.

Bloodthirsty growls fill up the darkness.

Gunshots rang in the still air.

Silence.

When the clouds pass, multiple bodies can be seen littering the ground in a pool of their own blood.

A glint of silver reflected off of the man's gun as he slips it back under his coat. Taking the last drag of his cigarette, he flicked the remains away, joining the bullet shells scattered at his feet.

As the howling dies out, the man walks away.

 

 

---

 

The church is quiet at this time of the night. Occasionally soft steps of the priests on duty and hooting of the owls can be heard. Both are night owls, in different sense of the word. And more often, active priests like him - Hunters - can be seen loitering around the place. However tonight, only he is awake.

He prefers to hunt alone; less hassle, less resource wasted. He's a lone wolf, through and through.

(Though according to his one close friend, he's more of a lone tiger, prowling around his turf.)

The hunters are a group of specialized priests, trained to kill non-human creatures. Out of the various species currently exist the one that poses the most trouble is the vampire. Vicious, bloodsucking creatures that mainly preys on human. Not much is known yet, but from past data they seem to be divided into several classes. Each class varies in terms of power levels, toughness and abilities.

Fortunately, it wasn't his job to painstakingly dissect and catalogue each and every vampire that came his way. That's Needle's, and the rest of the research team's job. They're basically a bunch of mad scientists affiliated with the church.

That aside, his job scope is pretty simple - search and kill, to put things in a very rough and stupid way.

A black cat run past his feet, straight into the bushes while carrying what looks like a dead rat between its jaw. They really should give the rat problem a check. Unless if they want to have rat infestation on top of vampires hoarding the village.

The vampires. They've been increasing in numbers as of late. In direct relation to that, nearby villages also report an increase in cases of missing persons.

Certainly, a point to ponder. Too close to be a mere coincidence.

The age of the victims ranged from young teens to late adults - all are physically capable. Among the victims are those identified to have special skills or set of knowledge (doctors, scientists, soldiers, and the likes). The villagers are overtaken by anxiety, who's next? Some of them are beginning to leave the village in hopes of escaping the shadow of fear that looms over them.

Poor souls, they have no ideas.

Those who have gone missing did return. But not as themselves. Not as humans.

As vampires.

Investigations seem to point it towards the works of a single, likely ‘pureblood’ vampire. Though there is still a possibility of multiple vampires working together, that which is a very rare case. Vampires are highly egotistical, especially the purebloods. They are not known to work together in any situation. However, there are cases of lower levels vampire forming gangs.

For what reason, for what purpose, they don't know. The church alliance is doing all they can to unravel the mystery (though to what extent, he can't say. Corruption prevails anywhere.)

Creak-

Hm?

The sudden sound pulls his attention away.

Creak-

Again. From where?

Following the sound, his feet brought him to the church's main hall. The great wooden doors are slightly ajar, and the night wind blowing through causes it to swing on its hinges.

Strange, the hall should be locked tight by now. They don't have any use for it at night.

Upon closer inspection, he can see the wood splintered at the locks, along with what looks like a rough claw mark.

His eyes widen for a split second. Something has gotten in. Looking around, he couldn't spot any blood stains or other signs of damage. Feeling for his gun kept under his coat, he still has enough bullets left for this. Cautiously, he nudged the door open, stepping inside.

Sound of wind blowing echoes in the wide hall. Bright moonlight streaming in from the tall stained-glass window paints the space in a myriad of colours.

Another step.

Faintly, he begins to hear something different under the howl of the wind. The sound of someone's harsh breathing, like they have been deprived of the oxygen they lived on.

Another step and the sound abruptly cut off with an audible gasp.

"..-Please, don't come any closer-"

A weak plea reached his ears, the deep, raspy voice just barely heard.

He knows that voice. No matter how long, there's no way he'd mistaken it for anyone else's. That voice had left such an impression in him.

 

 

"Good morning, Father. How are you today?"

"What 'sins' have you come to confess this time?" Every few days, without failing. At this point he knows everything about the man - all his insecurities and failures. Yet they never spoke to each other face-to-face. It is the kind of strange relationship that somehow works for them.

Murasame Ryo. He'd known the name not from the person himself, but from the ones around him. Apparently, he lived here long before he came, and had been away for some time. Travelling, so they say. No news, nothing. Then suddenly he returned unannounced.

The man was..hurt, then. Somehow. No one knows the exact details and he suspects that some part of the story had been exaggerated at some point.

A light chuckle follows. "Is dropping by to say 'hi' a sin to you?"

"Depends on the purpose and intention of the gesture." Lighting a cigarette, he casually carries on with the conversation.

"You're smoking in the booth again? How irresponsible." The man exclaimed, words tinged with exasperation. "You'll be reprimanded again, you know."

Tch, Gamon can go suck it. "That old fart can't touch me."

A long sigh. He can picture the man with his hand on his chest, shaking his head in disapproval.

Puffs of white smoke seep out through the gaps of the carved wooden walls of the booth. For a moment, comfortable silence falls in between them.

"..Yesterday-" He instinctively turns towards the voice, tone considerably changed from moments before. "-Yesterday, another one died. The same presentation, the same way."

He listened quietly, letting the words flows through him.

"I know what you wanted to say - 'It's not your fault' - but still, I wished I had been able to do something more. Just watching over them passes away like that is just terrible."

Such a pure soul - that had been his thought since the first few times they met. But the man is in no way naive, he knows the dark side of the people, and he admit that he has one as well. Still, he strived to do good to others. Sometimes at the cost of himself.

"It can't be helped. Some things are just outside of our capabilities. What we humans can do is awfully limited." The unwavering truth. Humans are powerless. And he, for one, had no hopes whatsoever for this race. "Just pray."

"..Do you?"

"You know the answer to that."

"You're a strange man, Father." A pause filled with soft breathing. "I do, even for you."

"Thank you, I suppose." Still thinking of others even when he's the one having troubles.

Rustles of fabric against the wooden chair of the booth came from beside him. "I guess I have to take my leave now. If I'm out for too long, Dr Kaido would get worried again. The clinic is really busy too these days. Have a good day, Father."

"Aah."

And that was the last time they met. Exactly a month - a month of no news.

'He'd been taken away,' The village women whispered in hushed voices.

It wasn't until the doctor and his adopted daughter themselves came bashing on his door one night that he finally believed the rumours.

"It isn't like you to be mulling over one person like this. You're sure you're right in the head?" Words of concern, one might say. Though the wide shark-like grin that accompanied the sentence gave off an entirely different vibe.

Maybe. Maybe not. But he's not crazy enough to let Needle touch his head in any way.

 

 

Something stirred inside him at the way the man's voice sounded. He sounds like he's in pain.

Focusing his eyes to where the voice came, he can make out a silhouette of a person sitting with his back against the altar of the hall.

"Where have you been?"

 

"..Father? Is that you? I'm sorry, I couldn't recognize you." A beat followed by another laboured inhale. "I-I don't know. I couldn't recall anything..."

"How long have you been like this?"

He waited for the other to catch his breath. "..A week? Maybe more. I locked myself indoor, afraid that I'd hurt someone if I don't. My body feels like it's on fire, and-" A gasp. The tone of his voice rising with panic, "-And I have this strange thirst for blood. What is happening to me?"

Just as I thought, eh?

There's no sense of achievement over that realisation. But one thing nagged him; those who returned wrong never retained their sense of self, and those who do dies within a few days. Rejection, perhaps.

"You're turning into a vampire." The words fall out in his usual monotone.

"I am what?" Before the man can say anything more, he interjected.

"Though, going by what you say, you've been starving yourself for over a week. On top of that, you still haven't lost your mind."

Strange indeed. He can see Needle grinning like a shark at the back of his mind. Slowly he began to step closer towards the man.

"..I don't know if I should be surprised at how casual you sounded." Lost in the haze of hunger, the man didn't notice.

He withdraws a silver blade from under his coat and made a cut across his left forearm, letting the blood flow freely down his hand. The strong scent of blood seems to shook the man to his core, punctuated by a sharp gasp.

"-What are you doing?"

"Beats me." His blood dripping onto the floor, staining the formerly pristine surface in bright scarlet. He watches the accumulating pool in disinterest. "What do you think?" He takes another step closer.

"Stop - Please stop this!"

Stopping just before the man, he crouched down. He put his right hand on the altar, caging the man in.

The man's eyes glittered like emeralds with an uncanny light within. Being this close, he can feel the waves of heat coming from the man's body.

He looks awfully pale.

A pair of hands shot upward against his chest meaning to push him away however it was barely making a dent. Perhaps because he had been starving for too long, he'd probably spent the remaining of his energy to get here.

Grabbing both hands, he pinned them above the man's head. The position caused the man to arch his back just slightly.

"Father..?" The man trembled in his hold, voice pleading.

 

Ah, a familiar pang in his guts. How ironic. Maybe he's not as sane as he first thought, after all.

 

He bites his tongue hard enough to bleed.

 

"Don't struggle to much, or else you'll get hurt."

"What-"

The rest of the sentence never came, pushed down his throat.